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Picture the fattest cat you can think of. Double that, and you’ll get an idea of what I saw earlier today when I was out interviewing. And I’m not talking about a cougar or leopard—an exotic, naturally big breed of cat–but an ordinary house cat.

It’s always more interesting when you go to people’s houses rather than talking to them on the phone. Sometimes it’s a little scary, like today, when you wonder what kind of person would let their pet become that obese—and you’re in their house.

The cat is orange and white and looks as if it swallowed a basketball. When it walked, the rotund stomach swayed back and forth like a pendulum. When it went to lie down, it flopped to the ground, did a half roll and then found a happy position where its head rested on the floor, and its little paws stuck into the air. The paws were the only little thing on it. They looked silly, like something dainty attached to an elephant. Even the legs and neck were fat.

It was gross, but more than anything, I felt bad for the cat. After all, they cannot help it. I suppose cats don’t possess the cognitive power to put themselves on a diet. I found that during the interview I kept sneaking peeks at the cat because it was so astonishing, freakish even. I never thought cats could get that grotesquely large.

Next to the chair where I sat was a cage with a dove in it. Now the dove was lovely—pure white and unlike the cat, slender. The bird once starred in wedding photography. The prettiest cooing sounds kept fluttering from its cage and distracting me even further.

There were so many animals, in fact, on the walls—a tiger calendar—and behind me and lying in front of me and even tattooed on the lady’s ankle—Nala and Simba from The Lion King—that it felt a little bit like I stepped into the Animal Planet.